


White Heron

by SerendipitousLyss



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Fluff, Gen, byleth dances with jeralt at the white heron dance, cannot stress this enough, i just want them to have one happy moment please, not ship, this is mostly unedited to excuse any grammar or spelling errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerendipitousLyss/pseuds/SerendipitousLyss
Summary: It really is a lovely ball.Byleth hovers by the outer wall, already thoroughly spent not even halfway into the festivities. She’s been hounded with dance after dance, one after the other, since the party had first begun. No amount of training and exercise could stop her feet from hurting after that much dancing.Jeralt dances with his daughter for the first time.
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	White Heron

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something about Byleth and Jeralt for a while because I liked their relationship in game but I wanted them to interact with each other more and see Jeralt be a little more casual since he's always so cynical and cautious at the monastery. Enjoy!

It really is a lovely ball.

Byleth has never been one for parties, but even she can’t deny the appeal of the White Heron dance. The main hall is decked out in all manner of extravagant decoration: floating lights to illuminate the dance floor, expensive-looking drinkware filled with all manor of beverages, and tediously organized platters of hors d'oeuvres. The hall is abuzz with excited chatter and laughter in the wake of the White Heron Cup, and the hall is filled with music and laughter.

Byleth hovers by the outer wall, already thoroughly spent not even halfway into the festivities. She’s been hounded with dance after dance, one after the other, since the party had first begun. No amount of training and exercise could stop her feet from hurting after that much dancing.

Glancing around the room, she spots many familiar faces amongst the crowd. Many of them are the faces of her students from the Blue Lions house, chatting amongst themselves or spinning around on the dance floor. Mercedes and Annette huddle close together by the refreshment table, eagerly sampling the treats set out for just this night, while on the other side of the hall, she can spot Sylvain pestering an uncomfortable-looking Felix. Trying to goad him into dancing, if Byleth had to hedge a guess. She’d been certain Felix wouldn’t dare show up at such a frivolous celebration, but she’s glad he’d decided to come, even if it had been at the coercion of his friends.

“Taking a break from all the dancing?”

Byleth turns her head at the familiar voice, glancing up instinctively to meet her father’s gaze. So, even the Knights had made it for the ball. She leans against the wall, nodding her head. “The students wore me down. It’s unbelievable how much energy some of them have,” she replies, turning her gaze back out onto the dance floor.

Jeralt smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “You’re certainly popular tonight. It seemed like every time I looked over, you were dancing with someone new. I didn’t know you liked parties.”

Byleth shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. “It’s the first I’ve been to,” she points out. “Growing up in a mercenary family doesn’t exactly leave much time for extravagant balls.” This isn’t even the most formal party in existence. The students had come in their evening wear - long skirts for the girls and crisper suits for the boys - rather than bothering with expensive, complicated ensembles that Byleth can only imagine would be much more difficult to dance in than her own mercenary’s attire. Jeralt, similarly, had deigned not to dress up for the ball, though he’d picked out some of his less beat-up clothing and forgone his armor. “What about you? I haven’t seen you dance yet,” she quips.

Jeralt smirks. “I’ve seen my fair share of parties in my day, even as a mercenary,” he says. “And even before that, when I stayed here at the monastery, I danced with your mother often.” His smile softens some at the mention of his deceased wife, a tinge of sadness in his gaze, though it doesn’t linger for long.

Byleth blinks in surprise, her eyebrows raising minutely. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” she says softly. “I never saw you dance, growing up.”

Jeralt chuckles, pushing himself up from the wall and extending a hand out to her. “Well, would you like to see it now?” he asks.

Once again, Byleth finds herself somewhat at a loss. Growing up, her relationship with her father has always been somewhat… distant. A combination of her detached personality and the nature of their work had built up a kind of wall between them. Perhaps it’s a result of being back at the Monastery, or the change in lifestyle, but she finds herself excited at the idea. A faint smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, one that would seem nearly invisible to the normal person, and accepts Jeralt’s outstretched hand.

Jeralt’s wide smile broadens further, and he leads her out onto the dance floor alongside the other students. He sticks to the edge of the circle, which Byleth is thankful for, and starts up a slow, meandering waltz. It’s simple compared to the show-offish flourishes of Lorenz’s and Ferdinand’s dance styles, but Jeralt clearly knows what he’s doing.

“I didn’t know you could waltz,” Byleth comments, falling easily into the pattern of steps as Jeralt leads her.

“Sitri taught me when I started to court her,” Jeralt explains, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He leads Byleth into a spin, looking perhaps a bit too proud of himself, and Byleth goes along with it because she likes seeing him so lighthearted. For such a cynical man, it’s clear in these moments that Jeralt has a not-so-secret soft side that he reserves only for special occasions. It’s… nice. Byleth hasn’t seen him like this since she was very small.

Jeralt tilts his head slightly to the side, eyebrows raising just a bit. “Is that a smile? It truly is a special occasion,” he says.

Byleth hadn’t even notice the little smile that had bloomed on her face in between her thoughts, but sure enough, she can feel the telltale tugging at the corners of her mouth that gives her away. “Ah, how odd,” she responds, but the smile doesn’t fade.

Jeralt glances down at his daughter softly. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile like that. It’s good to see you loosening up a little. You were always so stiff and stoic as a kid,” he chuckles. “You never laughed, never even cried. Not even as a baby. Who would have guessed that becoming a teacher would brighten you up like this?” He laughs softly and pulls her along in time with the band.

Byleth glances away, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know why,” she admits, “but it’s… fun. Being a teacher, I mean. The students make me very proud. They’re a handful, but they’re dedicated to becoming better. I guess that’s all I can really ask of them.” In a moment of uncharacteristic playfulness, she coaxes Jeralt into a spin this time, allowing another small smile to slip onto her face as he struggles to duck his much taller body under her arm. She feels light, maybe even a little giddy; she hadn’t realized dancing could be so fun.

Just as she’s starting to really get the hang of the movements, however, the song comes to an end, the last notes of it drawn out in a sweet melody that fades to silence. The whole room pauses to politely applaud the band, murmurs of conversation reaching Byleth’s ear as they prepare their next ballad. “Thank you for the dance,” she says as her father drops her hand. “I had fun. I didn’t think I would enjoy this kind of party.”

Jeralt laughs quietly. “You’ve got more of a taste for this than I would have guessed, though this party is pretty tame compared to the kinds of dances they put on in Enbarr and Fhirdiad.” He takes a moment to stretch his back, grunting. Byleth wonders briefly if his age is beginning to creep up on him, turning him stiff, but he looks full of energy yet. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in the stuffy suits of the noblemen that attend galas like those. You can barely swing a sword with your arms squeezed into suit sleeves.”

Byleth snorts out an equivalent of a laugh, shrugging her shoulders in response. The band begins to pick up again, playing a carefree, energetic tune, and Byleth feels strangely disappointed that she may be relegated to the wall once more. Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, too.

Jeralt catches her eye briefly, and it’s as though something passes between them unspoken. “This one’ll be the last song of the night,” he comments.

Byleth hums her agreement, casting a glance at the crowd, where the dancers have begun to pair up once more for their final dance. Unlike earlier in the evening, no one makes a move to approach her this time. In fact, some of her students have already left, perhaps to go home and get some rest, or perhaps to continue their own party elsewhere.

Jeralt grins and holds out a hand to her once more. “What do you say? One more for the road,” he offers.

Byleth doesn’t bother to hide her smile this time. It’s still small and meek, more of a twitch of the lips than a true smile, but it gets closer every time. Maybe, she thinks, she’ll even be able to offer her father a real smile someday. “If you insist,” she replies, a lilt of humor to her words, and accepts her father’s outstretched hand once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to see more of my work or have a question for me, you can find me on tumblr @serendipitouslyss or on twitter @serenlyss.


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